


Dream Eater

by robogalaxy



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Language, Nightmares, One Shot, Pokemon Sword & Shield Expansion Pass: The Isle of Armor, Pre-Canon, Present Tense, honey is the mom avery DESERVES!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robogalaxy/pseuds/robogalaxy
Summary: The user eats the dreams of a sleeping target.Avery's dream must've tasted bitter.
Relationships: Savory | Avery & Honey (Pokemon)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 88





	Dream Eater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psybexm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psybexm/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY EM !!!! 🥳🥳🥳 
> 
> thank you for being a lovely pal, excellent writer, and sane best friend in this fandom.... you have truly solidified yourself as an excellent person and i will not let it go unnoticed! you discussed how much you loved this idea and i thought "write it for her !! as a gift!!" and as such i did :) using a few of your Avery HCs !!
> 
> have the LOVELIEST of days 🥺

_“Why aren’t you doing what I asked of you, Avery? Are you purposefully being disobedient?”_

_His feet are stuck to the floor, his current self locked behind the eyes of the boy he was fifteen years ago._

_“No, I could never! I’m trying as hard as I can, father, really—”_

_As usual, he is spoken over by his mother, authoritarian and condescending in her patterns of speech. She looks at him like he’s vermin rather than her own flesh and blood, his father joins in with a sharp, cutting glance, his sister holding onto her father’s jacket to shield her eyes from having to look at the poor excuse of a boy. They can sense he’s upset, but Avery has never been able to pinpoint the exact emotions of someone’s mind. It’s why he tremors so when his parents stomp on his name — are they angry with him, are they disappointed, or are they everything at once? He can’t read minds...he’s tried. He’s still trying, a decade and a half down the line._

_“Really? It seems to me that you just aren’t capable of what we as Elwins are predisposed to do. You’re unable to even move yourself a measly meter with your powers… if we can even call them that.”_

_His mother scoffs, almost spitting upon her son’s name as she glares down at him, his sister giggling at her mother’s retort as if it is the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Such pretty blonde hair and such gorgeous eyes — how unfortunate it was that there was nothing of any substance behind either of them. His mother never says it out loud, but the implied insults slither into Avery’s ears like Sevipers about to constrict around his feeble emotions. He senses himself start to wake up._

_Avery’s hands tremble as he relives his parents’ words, his child’s body flaring up as he starts to cry while he now, as an adult, can do nothing but watch as his parents and sister leave the room and shut the door behind them. They don’t even care enough to keep the light on. It’s dark and the words hiss louder, almost screeching. Avery’s hands reach up to his small ears to try to block the noise, looking down to find bloodied palms when he finally removes them. A mirror and a reflection show up. Avery, twenty-two now, sees Avery, five then, puffy eyed and nauseous. He’s sick from trying, from disappointing, from straining himself in an attempt to garner his parents’ respect back. The room is so dark that he cannot see himself spit up a mess of psychic energy, though he could definitely hear himself gag. Avery reaches for his throat with tiny hands, scratched by the pain of disapproval and the ache of his head._

_You’re powerless. You can move with your mind, but you can never even attempt to do anything more. Your baby sister’s learning how to teleport safely and consciously, a lesson you’ll never get to undertake._

_“Mother, I’ll learn for you!” Avery yells as the mix of bright colors spill from his mouth and wrap tight around his head, “Father, I won’t let you down!”_

_If he was to continue on this trek to prove himself, he should get a move on. Avery tries to walk. His feet finally move. He moves them again. They move once more. Mist around his ankles guides Avery towards the door, but in an instant he collapses, the mist having tripped him up. His face lands directly in the pool of his own broken eardrums’ blood and the energy he had coughed up. His glasses crack. He can see nothing but the darkness faintly illuminated with his mother’s words:_

_“It seems you’re just not capable.”_

_“It seems you’re just not capable.”_

_“It seems you’re just not capable.”_

_A new phrase appears after the previous flashed three times, written with hypnotizing colors:_

_“You’re disappointing our entire bloodline, Avery, and what have you to say for yourself?”_

_“...Nothing, mother,” he mumbles as his face stays stuck to the cold, dirty floor, drowning in his despair, “and I’m sorry.”_

* * *

Avery shoots up from his bed, his pillow stained with tears and his sheets drenched in sweat. His chest pounds as near-sighted eyes read the time - 2:38 am. How he manages to even make out the numbers through his blurry vision beats him, but he doesn’t have the time to think through the intricacies of his eyesight. What Avery _does_ have time for is hyperventilating as quietly as one who had just awoken from a nightmare could - that being almost impossible for someone as elegantly boisterous as he is. His hands are quivering as they reach up to try to wipe away tears that fall warm onto the hem of his shirt. 

“Calm yourself down, will you?” Avery whispers harshly as he throws his blanket off of him and turns to place his feet on the cold ground below, “No need to make a fuss.” He looks out the window of the room in which he stays with multiple other dojo students (all of whom rest peacefully as Avery only sees the shadows of his father around the corner of the doorway) and sees the isle’s night sky. It’s foggy out there, easy to get lost in (as past treks had taught him, ironically making his point abundantly clear). If anything, if there was _anything_ Avery wants in this moment of vulnerability, it is to leave where he swears he still sees the melting colors his parents left him to suffocate in. Avery stands up and levitates his glasses off of a small bedside table. He puts them on and sees himself out of the bedroom. On the way out, he passes his father’s overbearing shadow and doesn’t stop to say hello.

* * *

The dojo is eerily quiet when there’s nobody around to practice in it. Avery’s feet make small sounds as he tries to avoid walking too briskly. Who knows what could happen if he were to knock over the dumbells that sat in the corners or the room or trip over himself while walking up the small stairs to make himself level to the exit? 

_It’d be a mess! You make enough of those already, child, what with your tendencies to make the knick knacks flurry about the room. It’d be endearing if it wasn’t the only thing you could do._

No, he can do _more_ , he’s always been capable of doing more. Why else would he be here to hone his skills in order to take the mantle of Gym Leader from his mother? He has a talent, Master Mustard says, and it’s _her_ who never saw it. He should hold the leader spot before his sister; he’s the eldest! He huffs as he paces towards the door once more, mind set on strolling so deep into the fog that he can no longer think about the dream that plagues him so.

_Who’s up? Is that you, Avery?_

He flinches as he hears his mother’s voice again, scared not only because it had cut his rest short and triggered his anxiety, but because it sounds… _concerned_? 

_Avery? Sweetie, is that you?_

Oh, he sees how it is. His mother’s voice comes to him softly, caring and parental, only cementing further that he is still in the dream. It’s taunting him. 

_Heading outside? Avery, what for?_

“To avoid hearing you act like you care, mother!” he barks in a whisper.

_Avery! Please, turn around._

“You’ll just tell me I’ve muddied the reputation of the family name again, as if I haven’t heard it a million times before. It’s no longer original.”

“Are you talking to yourself?” 

“...Excuse me?” Avery says as he hesitantly turns around, his pallid expression probably doing nothing positive for his case. He sees someone else in her pajamas, his throat closing as he realizes he’s not been speaking to his mother these past few minutes, but instead someone else. 

_So much for faking my confidence. Word spreads much too quickly in this place._

“Oh...oh, _sweetie_. No, no, look at you,” the voice coming closer says as Avery’s eyes finally focus in on who has stood behind him, “you’ve been crying.” His warm face is cooled as a woman gently places her hands on his flushed cheeks, murmuring if he’s okay. It is no longer his mother’s voice, but one that is unsurprisingly sweet and comfortingly familiar. 

“Miss Honey!” he exclaims (with Honey calmly telling him to hush a bit, Hyde wakes up so easily), “What are you doing up? It’s late, you know, and I cannot imagine what you do for the dojo doesn’t require hours upon hours of beauty sleep.” 

“Why I’m up doesn’t matter,” she argues with a frown, “now, why _you_ are? That matters. To me, at least. Were you planning on going outside, love?” 

“Perhaps,” Avery says, “quietly, of course. Nightly stroll,” Honey shakes her head and takes his hand, leading him to the dining room, pulling out a seat for him as he fumbles to find an excuse, “and I just thought that it’d be a fine night to let Rapidash work on thei—”

“Avery, you know good and well that you can tell me the truth,” Honey interrupts as she sits herself down beside him, a hand still placed softly on top of his, “and I can tell you now, I know this truth of yours isn’t training.” She looks so concerned, even in the dark of the evening, even without her bright makeup that illuminates her every expression, that Avery opts to let go of his lie. 

“...I couldn’t sleep.” 

(Avery said nothing about _not_ opting for another lie.)

“You look like you’ve been crying,” Honey observes, “and excuse me if I’m assuming, love, but… you look like you’ve had a nightmare.” She reaches a hand to brush blonde hair out of Avery’s face, looking closer at his slightly swollen eyes and listening to his scratchy voice. She knows he’s been crying, and she knows he is about to again when she sees him bite his lip. His shoulders are quivering and he tries to hold back a sob. Avery wonders if _she_ has telepathy - she’s practically read his mind. 

“Am I just that easy to crack, Miss Honey?” he whimpers, “Or are you just a psychic? A much better one than I, obviously, if that so happens to be the case.” 

“Oh, dear, I’m no psychic. I just know when people are upset, Avery,” Honey assures, “and I’ve always cared for each of you students like you’re my own. A mother can tell when her child is okay, and you’re _not_ okay. You do know it’s alright to not be okay, right?”

“I _know_ ,” Avery explains as he lifts his hands off the table and gestures as he speaks, “I _know_ it’s okay, logically, everybody has emotions–”

“Mhmm,” Honey nods, “and you have every right to express them.”

“–but at the same time, I feel so weak for having them! For even thinking about getting upset over a damn stupid _dream_ , of all things,” he continues through slow but oncoming sobs, “and that’s what gets me.”

“So it was a nightmare?” she asks, Avery hesitating before nodding. “Oh, love, _Avery…_ ” Honey falters as she holds onto his hands again, “Those sit awfully on the mind. Talk to me about it if you’re comfortable. If not, a general idea will work. Something I can work with so I can help you feel better.” She brushes aside his hair again and slowly gets up to go to the fridge to get the two of them cold bottles of water (Honey knew how badly crying could dehydrate), setting them down as Avery mumbles a small _thank you_. 

“It was… it was nothing out of the ordinary,” he explains, “if you remember anything at all about my parents.”

“Of course I remember,” Honey nods as she opens her bottle of water and takes a sip, watching as Avery puts his head in his hands and further explains, “they’ve never treated you right.”

“I’ve put in so much energy in trying to prove myself to them, hurt myself trying to adhere to their goals, and it’s never enough. I wasn’t born with the innate ability to do what they can,” he mumbles, “and I’ll never be able to, no matter how hard it is I try. I try and try, Miss Honey, and where does it get me? Nowhere. Not in their eyes.”

“But should their views matter to you?”

“Should they _matter?_ ” Avery reflects, His voice raises a little, like Honey had struck an unpleasant chord, “Why _else_ would I be here trying to hone my skills? Why else would I be trying to sleep out in the fog so I can’t be reminded of their constant backlash? Why else would I be so _distraught_ , hm? Can you think of any other reasons?” He’s pretty much lost the battle against the lump in his throat, choking on his words as Honey can only watch on in pity, in absolute and utter worry. Avery was prone to sassing off and she’d always been able to hold her own against him, but these words came not from the need to prove himself the wittiest, but from a boy who had reached a small breaking point. Honey couldn’t get mad at him for it - all she could think to do was push out her chair and stand up behind Avery, hugging her arms around his shoulders. He freezes as he realizes what Honey’s doing, looking up at her.

“Wha—”

“I know, I know,” she mutters, taking off Avery’s glasses and setting them on the table so they don’t smudge as he continues to cry, “and those are perfectly valid reasons to be upset. You have every right to still feel like their opinions matter, but I want you to think about something else for me, okay? Can you do that, Avery?”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Honey says as she tightens her grip on Avery for a brief moment, “think about yourself. Your training here. What have we said to you about it?” 

“That it’s weak,” he answers, “that I’m barely even trying. Isn’t that it? I don’t _need_ to try, Miss Honey. Succeeding here’s the only thing I’ve never had to strain myself for."

“We do want you to push yourself a bit farther because we _know_ the strength you possess. You think you can get away easy just doing the small stuff, the bare minimum, but the truth is? There’s so much to you that can be unlocked through your training here. Does the dojo focus on strengthening telepathy?”

“Well, no—”

“And do we focus on transportation methods?”

“No—”

“And do we strive to make sure all students master telekinesis?”

“No,” Avery says, not being interrupted for once, “but what does it matter if we did? I couldn’t do a bloody thing.”

“That’s the idea, Avery, darling,” Honey replies as she hugs him again, “we _don’t._ We help those who want to improve their battling skills, hone in on the talent that lies in every trainer and make sure we can help carry them to the road they choose to go down.” Avery takes this in as he stays silent in order to listen, the occasional odd hiccup escaping him as a hand of his reaches up to grab onto Honey’s wrist. She smiles at his touch as she continues her gentle encouragement. 

“You don’t know just how strong Mustard and I think you are and just how much stronger you could be with more effort. This part is important, Avery, more important than any other thing I’ve said tonight. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Miss Honey,” Avery replies in a faint whisper, “I’m listening.”

“We are _not_ your parents. I am not your mother, Mustard is not your father, your fellow students are not your sister. We’re different people with different goals and aspirations, proud to have you as a student with us as we watch you grow into someday having a Gym of your own. Avery, love, we aren’t your parents or sister, but… but you’re part of our family, and by now, you always will be welcome.”

Avery rockets up from his seat and turns around to face Honey, wasting no time in enveloping her in a tight hug, muffled cries staining her shirt with tears. She pats his back and nods, shushing him with calm affirmations as she rocks them side to side. 

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you,”_ he mumbles, letting himself melt into Honey’s hug before he finally lets go to look her in the eyes. She brushes a hand against his face again and smiles softly. 

“You look so tired now,” she says, “maybe you should try going back to bed, love. You can take your water and don’t forget your glasses, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Miss Honey,” Avery says hoarsely, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You deserve to know that we believe you’re capable of anything you wish to do and will be here to train you in a way that will ensure your success. You’re a lovely kid, Avery. Good night, sweetie. I’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Yes,” Avery replies, “yes, yes, of course you will.”

“Good. Sleep well, please, Avery, for both our sakes.” With this, Honey leaves the kitchen and turns away to head back to her bedroom, the words she’s spoken ringing in Avery’s mind. They bounce off the walls of his brain while he tiptoes back into his bed, covering himself with the blanket and looking up at the ceiling above. A hand waves and his glasses are set back onto the table. His eyes feel heavy as he falls back into his pillow, seeing a new phrase illuminate the darkness when his eyes shut tight. 

_“You deserve to know you’re capable of everything.”_

**Author's Note:**

> mustard and honey adopt avery 2k20 please..... i beg of you..... 
> 
> and again em i hope you loved it 🥺🥺 can't express how much of a cherished friend you are ♥️ and i could say so much more. 
> 
> thank you SO much for reading!! feel free to leave kudos, comments, and bookmarks ~ <3


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